Read Online House of Secrets by Ned Vizzini, Chris Columbus - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ned Vizzini, Chris Columbus
Ads: Link
the dumbwaiter, gauntlets on, brandishing her barbecue fork.
“Nell, stop! You can’t—” Brendan yelled, but she had already closed the door.
I t was pitch-black in the dumbwaiter. Eleanor could hardly move. If she’d been a foot taller, she never would have fit inside. She twisted to grab one of the bicycle-chain-like cables that the container rode on and pulled one way. The dumbwaiter inched up. So she pulled the other way and started down, moving quickly. The rusty pulleys squeaked. With every foot she descended, the voices of the warriors grew louder.
“Hand me that sweetened meal, Krom!”
“Find your own!”
“We could set up camp here and run raids over the East!”
“It could do with a few slaves to tidy up—”
Halfway down Eleanor started to think she’d made a terrible mistake. Slaves? Raids? This wasn’t some TV show; these men would cut her to pieces. But she couldn’t reverse course and be a coward. Not with Bren and Deal upstairs depending on her.
The dumbwaiter stopped at the kitchen with a metallic chunk .
“What was that?” Slayne asked. Eleanor heard him approach. He was only a few feet away, on the other side of the wall—and then he opened the dumbwaiter door.
His black eyes met Eleanor’s. He had mayonnaise in his beard. His rancid-sweat smell hit her like a punch.
“Why, it’s a little witchling,” Slayne chortled to his companions, turning his head—
And Eleanor stuck him in the cheek with her barbecue fork.
“Raagh!” Slayne brought his hand to his face, shocked that the girl had cut him. Then he plunged his sword into the dumbwaiter. Eleanor shrank back and threw up an arm—
Clang! The blade glanced off her gauntlet. “Help!”
Slayne pulled back for another thrust. Eleanor felt a jolt—and the dumbwaiter began to rise rapidly. The next sword strike hit the wall of the shaft below Eleanor, just missing her. She heard Slayne’s bellow of frustration as she moved up in herky-jerky starts until she reached the second floor. Light entered the dumbwaiter . . . and with it the shadows of Cordelia and Brendan.
“Get out!” They yanked her into the hall. “They’re coming!”
A thunderous clamor of metal sounded from the spiral steps. “Kill her!” roared Slayne.
The Walkers ran up into the attic, pulled up the steps, and locked the trapdoor. “Nell! What were you thinking ?” Cordelia demanded.
Eleanor started to explain—when they heard the deep crunch of an ax biting into wood behind them. They turned to see the tip of Krom’s ax poking through the attic door. It disappeared and struck again. Chunks of wood fell away, leaving a hole. A sword stuck up and slashed around.
“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! ” Eleanor cried. “I was just trying to be brave, and now we’re all gonna die!”
B rendan ran to the rollaway bed. There wasn’t much time. Krom kept widening the hole—any minute it’d be big enough to let all the warriors in. Brendan tossed the mattress off the bed and wheeled the metal frame to the window.
“We’re too high up to jump. But if we can get to that tree . . . ”
Cordelia and Eleanor understood. They opened the window, and then helped Brendan lift the front of the frame and shove it out diagonally, so it would fit; then they grabbed the back and lifted that too, pushing it out to make a bridge, hoping it would catch against the gnarled bark of the nearest tree.
“Count of three!” Brendan said. “One . . . two . . . ”
With all their might they heaved.
“Yes!” Cordelia said. The far end of the bed caught. The near end was hooked over the inside of the windowsill. “We did it!”
“You two go first.” Brendan glanced back. There was now a huge hole where the attic door used to be. The stairs, which folded up when the door closed, were gone as well—reduced to splinters. Slayne’s red feather poked through the hole. “Krom, on your hands and knees! I need to get up there!”
Cordelia took the lead. She
“Nell, stop! You can’t—” Brendan yelled, but she had already closed the door.
I t was pitch-black in the dumbwaiter. Eleanor could hardly move. If she’d been a foot taller, she never would have fit inside. She twisted to grab one of the bicycle-chain-like cables that the container rode on and pulled one way. The dumbwaiter inched up. So she pulled the other way and started down, moving quickly. The rusty pulleys squeaked. With every foot she descended, the voices of the warriors grew louder.
“Hand me that sweetened meal, Krom!”
“Find your own!”
“We could set up camp here and run raids over the East!”
“It could do with a few slaves to tidy up—”
Halfway down Eleanor started to think she’d made a terrible mistake. Slaves? Raids? This wasn’t some TV show; these men would cut her to pieces. But she couldn’t reverse course and be a coward. Not with Bren and Deal upstairs depending on her.
The dumbwaiter stopped at the kitchen with a metallic chunk .
“What was that?” Slayne asked. Eleanor heard him approach. He was only a few feet away, on the other side of the wall—and then he opened the dumbwaiter door.
His black eyes met Eleanor’s. He had mayonnaise in his beard. His rancid-sweat smell hit her like a punch.
“Why, it’s a little witchling,” Slayne chortled to his companions, turning his head—
And Eleanor stuck him in the cheek with her barbecue fork.
“Raagh!” Slayne brought his hand to his face, shocked that the girl had cut him. Then he plunged his sword into the dumbwaiter. Eleanor shrank back and threw up an arm—
Clang! The blade glanced off her gauntlet. “Help!”
Slayne pulled back for another thrust. Eleanor felt a jolt—and the dumbwaiter began to rise rapidly. The next sword strike hit the wall of the shaft below Eleanor, just missing her. She heard Slayne’s bellow of frustration as she moved up in herky-jerky starts until she reached the second floor. Light entered the dumbwaiter . . . and with it the shadows of Cordelia and Brendan.
“Get out!” They yanked her into the hall. “They’re coming!”
A thunderous clamor of metal sounded from the spiral steps. “Kill her!” roared Slayne.
The Walkers ran up into the attic, pulled up the steps, and locked the trapdoor. “Nell! What were you thinking ?” Cordelia demanded.
Eleanor started to explain—when they heard the deep crunch of an ax biting into wood behind them. They turned to see the tip of Krom’s ax poking through the attic door. It disappeared and struck again. Chunks of wood fell away, leaving a hole. A sword stuck up and slashed around.
“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! ” Eleanor cried. “I was just trying to be brave, and now we’re all gonna die!”
B rendan ran to the rollaway bed. There wasn’t much time. Krom kept widening the hole—any minute it’d be big enough to let all the warriors in. Brendan tossed the mattress off the bed and wheeled the metal frame to the window.
“We’re too high up to jump. But if we can get to that tree . . . ”
Cordelia and Eleanor understood. They opened the window, and then helped Brendan lift the front of the frame and shove it out diagonally, so it would fit; then they grabbed the back and lifted that too, pushing it out to make a bridge, hoping it would catch against the gnarled bark of the nearest tree.
“Count of three!” Brendan said. “One . . . two . . . ”
With all their might they heaved.
“Yes!” Cordelia said. The far end of the bed caught. The near end was hooked over the inside of the windowsill. “We did it!”
“You two go first.” Brendan glanced back. There was now a huge hole where the attic door used to be. The stairs, which folded up when the door closed, were gone as well—reduced to splinters. Slayne’s red feather poked through the hole. “Krom, on your hands and knees! I need to get up there!”
Cordelia took the lead. She
Similar Books
